Sunday, June 19, 2011

I Didn't Really Need That Toe Anyways

Of all the differences we have, one of the most . . . inconvenient one is her aversion to blood. And my remarkable ability to find it. I feel bad for her sometimes. For example:

The other day we were in my room and I walked around the bed, kicking the corner as I rounded it. I yelled, complained a little that it hurt, and sat down on the bed. A few seconds later, I looked only to see my little toe spewing blood. A lot of it. Poor Brealynn almost added to the mess as she barely managed to hold down the contents of her stomach. I hurried to the bathtub and started hollering for Tom. Being the good guy he is, he brought me an old shirt and also cleaned up the bloody trail on the floor. It bled forever, and some more the next day when I reopened it. It was really impressive for how small of a cut it appeared to be. And now because I'm morbid (as well as all of my family) here are the pictures: